ROMANCE
While the Outdoor Girls were still staring at Will as though they could
not believe their ears, there came to them another sound that made them
start and look over their shoulders toward the roadway.
From that direction came a babble of voices--many voices--raised in
excited and angry expostulation. The girls and boys hesitated, a bit
bewildered by this new turn of affairs, not knowing exactly what to do.
And in that moment things began to happen!
Out of that crazy lean-to rushed the tramps, throwing frightened
glances over their shoulders toward the roadway from which direction
the voices were steadily growing louder. They did not, in that first
moment, see the boys and girls, for the latter were pretty well hidden
by the trees and shrubbery.
And when they did see them, it was too late--for two of the tramps at
least.
With a yell that startled the girls more than the sight of the tramps,
Will and Frank sprang forward, grappling with two of the men while
Allen and Roy rushed off in hot pursuit of the other two.
It seemed at first as if the boys were going to get the worst of the
hand-to-hand struggle, for the men were burly ruffians and they fought
with the fury of desperation.
But Will and Frank were desperate too--and mad clean through. They were
getting revenge for that other time when they had been held up in the
open road and robbed of their money and watches.
It was a terrible fight while it lasted, but it came to an end with
great suddenness. Not for nothing had the boys studied the art of
wrestling.
It was Will who first got the better of his enemy, tripping him neatly
as he lunged forward, and then, as the burly ruffian fell, sitting none
too lightly on his chest.
Frank came a close second, smiting his opponent a knockout blow on the
point of the jaw that stretched him senseless upon the ground.
So it happened that when Allen and Roy returned red and perspiring to
announce that the other two men had gotten clean away and eager to
offer assistance to Will and Frank, they found the latter in no need
whatever of their aid.
And the next moment there burst through the trees a dozen of the
queerest characters the girls had ever seen--an assorted collection of
farmers from all over the countryside. And these bewhiskered gentlemen
were angry, there was no doubt in the world about that. Even their
chin-whiskers trembled with wrath.
It had all happened so suddenly that the girls felt a trifle dizzy.
Besides, they did want dreadfully to laugh. Those funny old men staring
at them for all the world as though they were to blame--and Will
sitting on the fat tramp’s chest!
Mollie did giggle hysterically and one of the farmers, a red-faced old
man, swung about at the slight sound.
“I can’t see what all’s so funny,” he said reprovingly, at which all
the girls got suddenly red in the face and had to turn away for a
minute to gain control of their emotions. The red-faced old farmer
gazed suspiciously at their backs, then turned to Will.
“What you doin’ settin’ there?” he asked, at which Will grinned
broadly.
“It’s the most comfortable seat I’ve had in a long time,” he said,
rising and dusting off his hands. “Ever since this rascal here relieved
me of my watch and my friend of his money, I’ve dreamed of sitting on
his neck in just this way.”
“Look out,” cried Betty suddenly. She had recovered her composure and
from the tail of her eye had noticed that Frank’s victim was coming to.
“He’s going to get away.”
“Nothing like that!” cried Frank, as with one lunge he sank his hand in
the tramp’s collar. “After me spoiling a good set of knuckles on his
jaw?”
And then the farmers, who up to this time had been too much amazed to
do anything, explained that they also were after the tramps. They had
been missing all sorts of poultry and fruit for a long time past but
had not been able to figure out who had done the damage.
However, on the night before, Samuel Jones--he of the red face and
self-appointed leadership--had caught a couple of the rascals in the
very act of stealing two of his best hens and had made after them.
In vain did he bestir his pudgy legs in an entirely unaccustomed spurt
of speed--the thieves had been too quick for him. However, before they
had disappeared he had recognized them as a couple of ill-favored
scamps who had been seen loitering around the countryside.
“And so,” he finished, his chin whiskers quivering still more violently
with emotion, “I got together a posse of our leadin’ citizens, as you
might say, an’ we come a-huntin’ for these here thieves what comes
around in the middle of the night stealin’ from honest men. Much
obliged to you, young fellers, for doin’ the job up so neat for us.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Frank. Will adding with a grin:
“It was a great pleasure!”
Next thing, the tramps were commanded to “loosen up and come across
with the goods.” At first they sullenly refused, but upon Frank
threatening to administer another upper cut and the farmers raising
their shotguns suggestively, the scoundrels changed their minds and
grudgingly led the way into the log hut.
Even then the boys had no real hope of getting back the things that had
been stolen from them. The robbery had occurred long enough before to
have given the tramps plenty of time to dispose of both watch and money.
But they were agreeably surprised and delighted when, upon a little
further persuasion, the fellows revealed a hiding place in one corner
of the hut--a hole about a foot deep, lined with stones and covered
with several boards which, in turn, were covered with stones and dirt.
With a whoop of joy Will pulled from this hiding place not only his
watch and a wallet filled with money--four ten dollar bills which
Frank positively identified as his own--but two newly plucked chickens
carefully wrapped in newspaper to keep them from the dirt.
Samuel Jones’ eyes shone and his mouth beneath the whiskers was grim as
he turned to his companions.
“An’ you were tellin’ me,” he said, in a voice shrill with triumph,
“that I didn’t know what I wuz talkin’ about. Them two hens is mine,
I’m tellin’ you, stole from me at twelve o’clock last night. Now you’ll
believe me, mebbe.”
“Too bad to do the poor hobos out of a good chicken dinner,” Allen
suggested, with a twinkle in his eye as Mr. Jones carefully tucked his
property under one arm, taking his shotgun in the other. “Just when
they had it all prepared, too!”
“Humph!” grunted Jones. “They’ll git their dinner all right--in the
county jail. Come along, you two. Forward march, now. An’ make it
snappy too. We ain’t in no humorin’ mood.”
“Well,” said Betty, her eyes dancing as she watched the “posse”
disappear through the trees, the sullen tramps marching sheepishly
along with them, “if that isn’t the snappiest work I ever saw, then I
wouldn’t say so. Boys, you deserve a medal.”
“And to think you got your watch and money and everything!” said Grace
delightedly, as Frank fondly caressed his recovered bank roll and Will
slipped his beloved watch back into his pocket.
“It was a lucky chance that led us to take the wrong path all right,”
sighed Amy, who was secretly worrying for fear Will had received some
broken bones or internal injuries in the fray.
“The only thing that makes me mad,” said Allen, as they turned to
retrace their steps, “is that we didn’t catch the other two scoundrels,
Roy. It seemed a shame to let them get off scot free.”
“Tough luck,” agreed Roy, adding philosophically: “Though I guess
they’ve had scare enough to keep them away from this neighborhood for
some time to come.”
Once again they reached the intersection of the two paths, and this
time chose the one that led to the cabin of the Old Maid of the
Mountains. Instinctively they increased their pace, eagerly impatient
to see the old lady.
When they reached the little house on the hill there was no sign of its
owner anywhere. They had half expected to find her seated outside the
door, enjoying the sunshine, as was her custom, and the deserted aspect
of her front yard alarmed them.
They hurried forward anxiously. Then, just before they reached the
cabin, all the boys except Allen dropped behind on the plea that a
crowd of strangers might startle the old lady.
“Of course it’s necessary for Allen to be among those present, but as
for us, we prefer to wait outside,” stated Roy.
At Betty’s soft knock a faint voice called to them to enter. They found
the Old Maid of the Mountains pottering about some household tasks and
her rare old face lighted up at sight of the girls.
Then she caught sight of Allen and her hand flew to her throat in that
gesture of alarm the girls had come to know so well.
“Who--who are you?” she gasped.
Very gently the Little Captain put an arm about her and pushed her into
a chair.
“Don’t be alarmed, Miss Weeks,” she said. “We’ve brought you some very
good news. Do you feel strong enough to hear it?”
“Yes, oh, yes!” said the little old lady, still staring at Allen.
It was then that the young lawyer came forward. Betty introduced him
very simply and he explained to Isabella Weeks as gently as he could
what had transpired within the last few weeks.
During the greater part of the recital she sat like one dazed and who
finds it hard to comprehend. Only once did she show any real emotion,
and that was when Allen spoke of James Barton’s innocence.
“Innocent!” she cried, a great pride flashing up in her eyes. “You need
not tell me that. I was not the one who doubted his innocence. But
before I could tell him that he had gone, thinking himself disgraced.
But go on,” she added, gently. “I did not mean to interrupt.”
So Allen finished his story, telling of her brother’s death and the
will which he had made in her favor. She seemed more startled at first
by the mention of the money which was now hers than she was delighted.
“What would I do with all that money?” she cried, almost with dismay.
“I could not use it all.”
“But you could use some of it,” said Betty, adding, slyly: “Wouldn’t it
be rather nice for instance to have a pretty home with roses over the
door and a maid or two to wait upon you and never another worry as long
as you live?”
The old lady smiled, gently stroking Betty’s soft cheek.
“It would be nice,” she said. “Especially the roses. And butterflies.
Do you think there will be butterflies?” She asked the last question
with all the wistfulness of a child and this time it was Mollie who was
quick to promise.
“You shall have dozens of them,” she said. “And they’ll be every color
of the rainbow.”
This reminded Allen of the embroideries which had been the main
clew leading to the discovery of the old lady. He asked if he might
see them, and a moment later a handful were given to him for his
inspection. Man though he was, he could not but see the rare beauty of
the work, and when he handed them back to Isabella Weeks there was a
new respect in his eyes.
“Your brother spoke particularly of your fine needlework,” he said,
adding gravely: “Your brother was very, very anxious that you should
be found. Almost his last words were of you with the hope that, if
you still lived, you would some day come to forgive him for his cruel
injustice.”
Tears filled the old lady’s eyes.
“He was forgiven long ago,” she murmured.
Allen was about to turn away out of respect for her emotion when she
suddenly laid a frail old hand on his arm.
“And James Barton?” she murmured. “Is he--Do you know where he is?”
Allen shook his head.
“Would you like to have me find him?” he asked gently.
The girls looked at their little Old Maid of the Mountains and found
that their own eyes were filled with tears. The old lady was blushing
like any girl and for the moment her sweet old face was almost
beautiful.
“Oh, yes!” she answered eagerly.
“Then,” said Allen, covering her thin little hand with his own strong
brown one, “James Barton shall be found!”